


Bruises

by Tarlan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Community: mcsheplets, M/M, Torture, Trope Bingo Round 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All John can do is sit and watch helplessly as Kolya hurts Rodney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mulder200](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mulder200/gifts).



> Written for:  
>  **mcsheplets** 210: struggle  
>  **hc_bingo** prompt: septicemia/infected wounds  
>  **trope_bingo** prompt: first time/last time
> 
> For **Mulder200** as a small THANK YOU for your many comments and kudos on my stories. I hope you enjoy this one.

The noose was tight around his neck and the more he struggled the tighter it seemed to get so John forced himself to remain motionless. It was hard though because every cell in his body was screaming at him to protect Rodney. Instead all he could do was watch as Kolya systematically beat Rodney to cause maximum pain but minimum damage. John flinched with every blow that landed on soft, vulnerable flesh, and quietly swallowed a sob for each sharp cry of pain.

Silent words flowed through his head.

Bruises. Just bruises. Non-lethal. Won't even leave a scar... Not like that first time.

First time.

After the storm he'd seen the terrible patch-up job Rodney had done on his arm, too scared to take off his jacket and bind it properly. With so much going on at the time John hadn't really thought beyond the absurdity of it, simply assuming Elizabeth would order Rodney to go see Carson. Instead he had kept himself busy disposing of the dead Genii, and licking his own wounds as he tried not to dwell on the countless thumps against the closed shield. Most of Kolya's reinforcements died without ever setting foot on Atlantis, and he was responsible for every one of those deaths.

A full day passed before he noticed the tightness around Rodney's fever-bright eyes, and the sheen of sweat on clammy skin. Time enough for the wound to get infected, leaving a very real threat of septicemia. Fortunately, the Genii hadn't stolen all of their medical supplies and Rodney reacted positively to the strong antibiotics once Carson had cleaned out the wound.

The raw cut had healed quickly after that, and then faded away - or so John thought.

He saw it the first time they slept together; a thin silver line on pale skin, barely noticeable except for a slight glint from the bedside light. Three inches of scar tissue caused by a sharp blade, just like the one Kolya was now holding aloft menacingly.

"You need him," John choked out.

Kolya tapped the blade against Rodney's bruised and swollen cheek, the tip drawing a single bead of blood just below one blackened eye. For a moment he thought Kolya would give in to his sadistic nature, forgetting that he wanted Rodney's genius working on a new weapon for the Genii. John locked eyes with Rodney, knowing it might be the last time.

Last time.

Every night spent lying in each other's arms was as memorable as the first time, and he had awoken only this morning to sleepy blue eyes and a soft, crooked smile. Soft kisses and gentle caresses had led to slow sex, both of them moving together, attuned to each other's needs as Rodney wrapped clever fingers around both their cocks, bringing them both over the edge scant seconds apart. Perfection.

The sound of Ronon's blaster mingled with the staccato of a P90 and John watched as two of Kolya's men fell dead at his feet. Startled by the attack, Kolya fled, leaving Rodney in a motionless heap on the dirty ground. All John could do was sit and wait while fear for Rodney threatened to overwhelm him. From this angle he could not see any sign of life; no rise and fall of his chest, or flutter of sinfully long, pale eyelashes. What if Kolya's last despicable act was to plunge a knife into Rodney's heart or slash his throat?

Ronon's sharp blade severed the noose around John's neck and he crawled over to Rodney, letting out a single breath as he felt the strong pulse.

The lights were dimmed to ten percent in their shared quarters affording just enough light for John to see Rodney sprawled out on the bed beside him. His breathing was more labored than usual and he moaned softly in his sleep every time he moved. In the dim light John could make out the mottled bruising and swelling that would look worse before it got better.

Bruises. Just bruises.

Rodney was alive and in time he would heal, without a scar this time, but as sleep slowly crept over him John made a silent promise to himself.

Kolya was a dead man.

END  
 


End file.
